


Staying Power

by saltyavocado



Series: ravioli, ravioli, won't you be my husbandioli [3]
Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Sex Chicken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyavocado/pseuds/saltyavocado
Summary: "Sod the risk," Ravi interrupts, sliding his hands beneath the hem of her shirt. She sucks in a sharp breath, arms tightening around his neck. "Do you haveany ideawhat it's like to sleep in bed next to you while you're having a sex dream about me? Twice a week at least, Liv, and that's when you're not on some weirdo brain, or all worked up from a case - "





	Staying Power

**Author's Note:**

> so excuse number one for why this took so long: i had this very evolved idea on how to resolve this plot, which turned out to be so evolved that i couldn't write it, so in the end i just gave up and wrote porn. ~~excuse 2: this show got weird~~
> 
> thanks for hanging on! hope you like. yes, i know you can become a zombie through sex in canon. but going into this i feel like you should know that i don't care.

On a rainy Tuesday morning, about six months into their Wal-Mart marriage, Ravi runs into an ex-girlfriend of his named Maggie at Starbucks. Distracted by his app, and Liv's purse ( _extremely_ heavy but also a little bit too small for him to hang comfortably from his shoulder, meaning he has to carry it on his wrist like a _grandmother_ ), he doesn't notice her until she's right up in his face, beaming at him, chattering away like she used to when they were dating, which if Ravi remembers correctly had been one of the leading reasons he'd broken things off with her.

"Wow, look at you, what a mess, no umbrella?" Maggie says, with that stunning, repetitive cadence that Ravi is unfortunately now remembering very clearly. "So weird running into you here, how are you?"

"I'm...fine," Ravi says, eyeing the bathroom door frantically. Liv does not, in fact, come out right at that perfect moment. Her timing is never good when _Ravi_ needs her. "How are you, Maggie? Still over at Presbyterian, drilling holes into skulls, I assume?"

"You know it," Maggie replies. Blinking at her, Ravi suddenly snaps out of panic and into a realization of this moment: Maggie Thomas, blast from the past, here in the flesh. She looks good - her hair is long again, her clothes are only slightly dampened from the rain, and in a much more attractive way than Ravi's, probably. She's still beautiful, of course. But she looks as if she's more settled into it now. "Just last week I prescribed a jar of leeches to this kid with a stomach flu. Cleared him right up."

Ravi is surprised into a laugh. "Lovely to see you," he says, finding himself meaning it. He looks over at the bathroom again, but Liv still isn't there. He forces his shoulders to relax. 

Chatting is surprisingly enjoyable, and Maggie makes the most of their time in line, chattering about work, friendly noncommittal stories about mutual friends they used to have, neutral updates on her life. Ravi had dated her for about six months, when he first came to Seattle, and it'd been extremely comforting to be with someone who never really expected him to talk. Which had been the reason why it didn't work in the long run, of course, but - he finds himself falling back into an old pattern of nodding and smiling, which Maggie thrives on, as always. 

There is a moment, a moment which he will look back on later and identify as the official Moment He Fucked Up, where he could have mentioned it - "nice purse," Maggie says jokingly, nudging his arm, "didn't peg you as a Vera Wang man." - but to be honest, he doesn't think about it. He's thinking about, instead, the apartment he'd lived in back then, with its tiny little balcony, and the frittatas that Maggie used to make in the mornings that would stink up the whole apartment with onions, but they were so good he never cared, and Liv's not going to believe him later, when he explains the sappy look on his face was actually about the baked eggs, and not his extremely attractive ex-girlfriend, flirting with him right there in front of everyone like a shameless hussy. (Her words - direct quote.)

"Ravi." Liv appears as she always does - silently, and with a smirk on her face. Ravi's heart drops practically to his feet, when he turns and sees her expression - trained on Maggie, eyes narrow and - if he's not being paranoid - tinged with red at the edges. "Thanks for holding my purse, honey. Did you order yet?"

Ravi blinks down at her, then realizes that he and Maggie have inadvertently wandered out of line. "Oh," he says, "no, I was - "

"Who's this?" Maggie interrupts. "Ravi, you didn't mention you were here with your girlfriend! How cute."

"I'm actually his _wife,_ " Liv says. It sounds more like a threat than a comment. Maggie's smile falls off her face like a stone, dropping to the floor. Ravi gulps, and clutches the purse to his chest. He hasn't even got his coffee yet; he's not prepared for this. 

"I cannot believe you," Liv hisses later, after Maggie has finally stalked off, "oh my God, I feel like the harpy wife in a romcom. What is _wrong_ with you?" She reaches up to hit him, which Ravi blocks with the purse.

"She accosted me in line, I'm severely under caffeinated, and can we please have this discussion outside?" Ravi hisses back. Several customers are looking at them, with varying levels of pity and amusement. " _After_ we get the lattes?"

"Fuck your latte," Liv says, arms crossed. "Give me my purse back."

"No." Ravi swings it behind his back. "The gift card's in it."

"Ravi."

"Yes?"

" _Ravi._ "

"That doesn't work on me, the eyes," Ravi says quickly. "You lost your right to red-eyeing me when we got married. It's the fine print so you may not have noticed, but it was definitely in the vows."

"Oh so you _do_ remember who I am - I was wondering!"

"I was _going_ to tell her," Ravi insists. He smiles at her, weakly. "Really darling, if you're going to get jealous every time we run into someone who was once in love with me, we might as well move. You know what a lothario I was before I met you."

The attempt at humor falls profoundly flat. "I'm not jealous," Liv snaps. "I'm offended."

"Because that's such a huge difference?" Ravi exclaims. He tilts his head at her. "Did you eat a brain and not tell me? You're being totally irrational."

He can practically feel the temperature drop. "Just because I'm angry, I'm being irrational? Oh, it must be my _feeding time of the month_?!"

"That's not what I meant," Ravi says quickly, but it's too late. Liv narrows her eyes at him, then at her purse, then visibly makes the decision to abandon them both, and whirls on one heel to stalk out of the coffee shop. Ravi winces as she hits the door with one palm to open it, holding his breath until he's sure she hasn't broken the glass. 

"Harsh, man," says the barista, leaning over the counter to set a drink - unfortunately not a drink for Ravi - on the bar. "But in her defense, you're not even wearing a ring."

"It's getting resized," Ravi snaps. "Also - mind your own business."

The barista just rolls her eyes at him. To be fair - he deserves it.

 

 

 

 

Liv stays at the highest level of angry for about three days, up until she eats the brain of a murder victim and takes on the personality of an emotionally unstable housewife. Ravi immediately confines her to the house, banning her from doing anything in the field with Clive for the case, since she can't make it through a single conversation without bursting into tears. 

The flashes seem somewhat more intense than usual, which he definitely feels guilty about, especially when she discovers that their victim was being cheated on. She locks herself in the bathroom and takes an hour-long shower, then refuses to speak to him for the rest of the evening. 

"You realize," he says, crawling into bed with her that night - she's still not speaking to him - "that the situations are completely and one hundred percent different. Cheating on your wife and then paying a hitman to have her killed is a bit more intense than being a little rude in a coffee shop."

"You didn't even tell her about me," Liv snaps, then flops down on her stomach, her face turned away.

Ravi sighs, tugging at the blanket around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. "Liv."

"I don't wanna talk about it," she mumbles, her eyes full of tears. Ravi's heart does a funny twisting thing as he watches her rub at her face in frustration. "It's not fair to do this to me when I'm on a brain - you know I'm not myself - "

"I'm just trying to apologize," Ravi says gently, and that seems to be the ticket. She immediately rolls over and buries her face in his chest, curling up against his body like a flower wilting in the heat. A sad, teary flower, who's used far too much conditioner, that is. "I'm sorry."

"Are you really?" Liv says wobbily. "Because she was really, really pretty."

"She babbled my ears off," Ravi says, rubbing her back soothingly. "Really, it was unbearable. Never shut up, not even in bed."

Liv snorts a laugh against his t-shirt. "Not a good time to bring up your sex life, Ravi."

"Well, that wasn't great, either. Just saying. Let's just say we weren't exactly compatible." Ravi shudders a little, remembering. There'd been candle wax, at one point. "I was the one who dumped her, by the way. Just thought you'd like to know."

Liv doesn't say anything, but her shoulders do relax, just a bit. 

"I should have said something," Ravi says quietly. He's been nursing some low-grade guilt ever since the incident in question, but the last few days have brought his own behavior into stark perspective. It's never a comfortable experience, to find similarities in yourself with a murderer. "I just didn't think about it. We're not like other couples, and I just...didn't think about it."

Liv stiffens up again, pulling out of his embrace. Her cheeks are still streaked with tears, her _yes, I'm human_ makeup smeared beyond any hope of repair. "You mean we're not like other couples because we're not really a couple."

Ravi's heart does that twisty thing again. "Oh, please."

Liv smacks him. "Don't make fun."

"I'm not! But honestly." He huffs, pulling her back down against his chest. To his relief, she goes easily. "Look at us, darling. Think about it for a second, and if the next words out of your mouth have _anything_ to do with how terrible my life is with you in it, or how much danger you put me in, or anything else that sounds like an unbearable vampire movie then I'm making you sleep on the couch."

"You wouldn't," Liv mumbles weakly. She sniffs again, wiping her cheek against his shoulder. 

"I would," Ravi says, and means it. He holds her tightly, his stomach jumping a little (as it always does) at how small she is, how her feet barely reach the middle of his calves when they lie together like this. Six months, they've been doing this - letting themselves get used to it, falling naturally into a pattern that seems to work better than anything they've managed to build with anyone else. Ravi sighs. Sooner or later one of them has to say it, and it's definitely not going to be her. "It's not fake for me, Liv. Maybe it was for the first week or so, but it's not now, and it's not fake for you either."

Liv goes very still. "I didn't think you - "

"Yes, yes, I know," Ravi says impatiently, "you were pining away silently in agony, waiting for me to notice that there was no good reason for us to sleep in the same bed at which point I would kick you out of my life because I'm obviously much too good for you, et cetera, et cetera - "

"Shut up," Liv says, and swings one leg over his waist, rolling over on top of him. Ravi goes abruptly silent. Her eyes look pale and grey, in the dim light from their lamp. Ravi reaches up and gently wipes the last of her concealer off, revealing the white, pearly skin beneath. Her lips are tinged with blue normally, when she doesn't cover it up with gloss. Ravi thinks she's beautiful. "Were you waiting for me to say something?"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me if I just said it," Ravi says honestly. "I was trying to show you."

Liv's eyes fill with tears again. Ravi rolls his eyes at her, pulling her down into a kiss before she can start blubbering and ruin the moment. 

They've kissed before of course, hundreds of times, for the benefit of other people, and each one became more and more agonizing as Ravi waited longer and longer for her to be ready. It was the way she would flinch when he'd touch her when they were alone - her eyes jerking down to the ground, her shoulders pulling inward like she was ashamed of something, but - Ravi always tried anyway. He became greedy, coveting the small things, like some kind of repressed Victorian gentleman - her bare ankles, the small glimpses of her bare stomach he got sometimes, when she'd wander around the house in a tank top. The squeeze of her hand on his wrist - the only glimpse of affection she'd show at work. At night, getting hot and bothered at the contrast between their bodies, obsessed with how he could wrap his arm around her waist and pull her across the bed like she weighed nothing at all. 

This is radically different. Liv kisses him like he's dying, which - to her, perhaps that's what it seems like. Ravi slides one hand into her hair, goosebumps raising on his skin from the close press of her skin - much colder than his own. Flushed hot and cold all at once, it's sort of like - a jacuzzi in the snow. Feeling brave, he bites her lip, determined to enjoy it.

She breaks off with a gasp. "Careful! Careful, Ravi, you can't break the skin - "

"Shut up," he says, pulling her back down. "Six months! Six bloody _months -_ "

Liv groans, her mouth opening easily beneath his. Her legs are trembling where they're pressed up against his waist, her hands fisted in the collar of his ruined shirt. "Do you remember?" she asks, pulling away again, just enough that she can talk. Ravi tightens his grip on the back of her neck, a preemptive move before she can move too far away. "That night - do you remember what happened?"

"No," Ravi says, sitting up on one elbow. She leans back in response, settling more comfortably in his lap, her hair falling limply into her eyes. He brushes it away gently. "What night - the wedding?"

Liv nods, turning her cheek into his palm. And there's those twists, again. "You were drunk."

"I was." He presses their foreheads together, his heart pounding in triple time. "Did I say something that you've been obsessing about all this time?"

"Something like that."

"You're ridiculous," Ravi says fondly. He kisses her again neatly, and she reaches up and scratches the side of his beard, that spot right beneath his jaw that always itches. He smiles into it. "Let me try again. If Maggie were here, right now, in this bedroom at this exact moment - "

"This better not be going where I think it's going, pervert," Liv says, slurring the words a bit, still in a half stupor. 

"Well, maybe not this _exact_ moment," Ravi amends, "but let me tell you what I'd say: 'what the hell are you doing in my house, psycho?' That'd be first - "

"God, you're a dork," Liv says, sounding quite resigned to it.

Ravi grins at her. "Then I'd say," he continues gently, "'Maggie, you were a terrible girlfriend even though your frittatas were amazing, but that's hardly enough to build a life on together. Furthermore, I am somewhat occupied at the moment with my absurd, undead best friend, who really thought I didn't see her staring at my arse every morning in the bathroom - '"

Liv squawks indignantly. "You son of a bitch! You just let me stare?"

"I was being nice," Ravi says, laughing at her, "everyone needs stress relief, darling."

Liv covers her mouth with her hand briefly, her shoulders hitching. "I love it when you call me that," she confesses. 

"I know," Ravi replies, touching her face again. She leans in closer, and he feels like he could just melt into the sheets right there. "'She's my wife, Maggie. We've been playing a game and I'm sick of it, because she's my wife and she thinks she isn't. Which is, as I said, absurd.'" Liv's eyes fill with tears again. "That's what I should've said."

"I am, aren't I?" Liv says wonderingly. "Liv Chakrabarti - it says that on my checks and everything."

"It does indeed. You spent three weeks and two hundred bucks changing your name, and you thought I was just your _friend,_ " Ravi scoffs. Liv makes a face at him. "Now, tell me what happened at Wal-Mart."

"No," Liv says shortly, leaning in and kissing him again, quick and closed-mouthed. "Not a chance."

"Did I ravish you in the produce aisle? Take you hard and fast against the tomato vestibule?"

"Say 'vestibule' again," Liv says sleekly, leaning in close.

"Vestibule," Ravi says obediently, murmuring the word against the shell of her ear. She shudders. 

"You realize," she says breathlessly, "that we still can't have sex. Because of the zombie thing. So we're really just torturing ourselves here - "

"Says who?" Ravi asks indignantly. "It's not an STD, Liv."

"The risk is too - "

"Sod the risk," Ravi interrupts, sliding his hands beneath the hem of her shirt. She sucks in a sharp breath, arms tightening around his neck. "Do you have _any idea_ what it's like to sleep in bed next to you while you're having a sex dream about me? Twice a week at least, Liv, and that's when you're not on some weirdo brain, or all worked up from a case - "

"Oh God," Liv says, and scrambles off his lap, panting. Ravi frowns at her, debating reaching out and just pulling her back, but due to the look on her face, it seems ill-advised. "Oh God, Ravi, please don't talk like that. I love you, you know I love you, but please - "

"I love you too," Ravi says. Her face crumples. "Liv, come on. It's not as dramatic as all that - we'll be careful."

"I can't," Liv says, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and round in her face. "Ravi, I _can't._ I can't be the one that does this to you. Don't you see? I couldn't live with myself."

Ravi looks at her for a moment. Her hands are shaking, her face in true distress. He sighs. "Liv. You might be dead, but you're not bloody _dead._ Do you know what I mean? For God's sake." She jerks her shoulders back, looking as if he's just slapped her. "You and I both know that I might not ever find a cure. You can't just wait around forever - hey. _Hey._ " He reaches out and grabs her knee, shaking it a bit. "Look at me. I don't care about the risk, because it's not a risk to me. You're not the only one that this has happened to. Whether you infect me or not, it still affects me just as much. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You can only say that because you don't know what it's like," Liv says, crying again now. She wipes at her tears angrily, shaking her head. "I'm trying to protect you."

"Funny, because that's the same thing I'm doing," Ravi says gently. "From yourself, that is."

Liv just keeps shaking her head, her hand over her eyes. Ravi keeps his grip on her knee, goosebumps still raised high on his forearms. 

"Alright," Ravi says reluctantly, "I certainly don't want to pressure you - let's just go to bed for now, and we can talk about it tomorrow - "

"Oh no," Liv says, rolling right off the bed, landing on her bare feet on the carpet. "No, I know that trick - 'let's just go to bed! I won't try anything, I promise!' Then twenty minutes later you're rubbing off against my leg."

" _Rubbing off_ \- Jesus Christ, what kind of men did you date in college?" Ravi asks, horrified. "I am sincerely concerned about you sometimes, Liv, really - "

"I'll sleep on the couch," Liv interrupts, her voice high and tight. "That way, there's no...temptation, on either side."

Ravi eyes her for a second, his gaze falling to her breasts, practically spilling out of her tank top. Her stomach, the sharp angles of her hips, her thighs, her bare calves. His hands twitch. "Alright," he says, through gritted teeth. "I'm fine with that."

"Good," Liv says, gulping. She wipes the last of her tears away, her face now resolute. "That's, um. That's good."

"I'll take the couch though," Ravi says, still mournfully contemplating her thighs. Two minutes ago, those were wrapped around his waist, he realizes, with deep, profound regret. "You stay in the bed - "

"No, you have work tomorrow," Liv says, her voice still higher than usual, the words spilling out quickly. "And I don't need sleep at all, technically. I'll just - stay up and catch up on some reading, watch TV or something - "

"This is ridiculous," Ravi mutters. He blows out a sharp breath. "Fine. Okay, that's very nice of you, darling."

Liv twitches, and bites her lip. "Please don't call me that right now," she asks, her voice strained.

"Oh I'm sorry, does it make this _harder_ for you?" Ravi asks dryly. "I know you have a tendency to obsess, so please don't spend _too_ much time thinking about what I'm going to do the second you leave this room. _Darling._ "

"You are," Liv says, pausing to swallow thickly, "very intensely British right now, and I'm having some trouble dealing with it, so I'm just gonna go. Please don't be mad." She trips over a discarded sweater on the floor, walking backwards towards the door. 

"Does my accent turn you on?" Ravi asks, delighted. "I knew about the pet name, but - the accent in general?"

"It's more like the accent combined with the attitude and also, your beard. Oh my God, why am I telling you this," Liv says, banging the back of her head against the door. 

"I really have no idea," Ravi says gleefully. He narrows his eyes at her. "There's nothing at all that I could do with this information."

"Good night," Liv squeaks, finally making it through the door. It takes her two tries to shut it, the door catching on the edge of the laundry hamper before she shoves it out of the way. 

Ravi glares at the closed door after her exit, flopping back down on his back, hard as a rock and yet still, somehow, chilled all over. 

"Well, that was a lot," he says helplessly. 

 

 

 

 

And thus, it begins. Ravi is tired and irritable the next morning, right up until Liv surprises him by coming into work after lunch (the housewife's worn off, she says), with takeout from his favorite Chinese place as a peace offering. Then she steals all his eggrolls and chatters for twenty minutes about some nonsense problem with a chain of custody form, and she looks so cute with her hair up in that braid updo thing that Ravi pins her against his desk and kisses her until her eyes go crimson. Which is quite pleasant, and progressing nicely, right up until Clive barges in. 

"Whoa!" Clive immediately backs right back out of the office and stops short in the doorway, one hand over his eyes. Liv shoves him away, her eyes wide, and hops down from his desk, frantically pulling her clothes back together. Ravi just sinks into his desk chair and starts fantasizing about quitting his job to become a full time serial killer. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. Whoa, guys, whoa - "

"We get it!" Liv says tensely. She shoots Ravi a dirty look, who raises his eyebrows at her. "You can look now, Clive. For pete's sake, we were just kissing."

"That," Clive says, lowering his hand cautiously, "was a bit more than 'just kissing.' I see you two made up."

"We weren't fighting," Ravi says, picking his carton of kung pao chicken back up. "We were just - "

"We were fighting," Liv interrupts. She smiles tightly at Clive. "Sorry. Married people stuff."

"Uh huh. Well just a tip, maybe don't do 'married people stuff' to each other in an office made of windows," Clive says skeptically. He grimaces. "Liv - your shirt - "

Liv yanks her collar back into place, which doesn't do a whole lot to conceal the fact that her bra is unhooked. She shoots another glare at Ravi, who takes a giant bite of chicken and ignores it. 

"Jesus," Clive mutters. He thrusts a manila folder at her. "I just came by with the paperwork. Can you please sign it quickly so I can get out of here and wash my eyes out?"

"There's an emergency eye wash station right over there," Ravi says helpfully. "We work with very dangerous chemicals, you know."

Clive twitches, looking at the desk quickly, before jerking his face up at the ceiling. "Jesus," he says again, with feeling. 

Liv isn't really capable of blushing anymore, but she does this pinchy eyebrow thing when she's embarrassed, which Ravi finds helplessly charming. She signs the paperwork so quickly she fumbles the papers into a messy pile, which makes Clive grimace again, when she shoves them back at him, stuffed haphazardly back into the folder. "There. Thanks very much, see you next case."

"You two are using protection, right?" Clive asks, frowning deeply. "'Cuz I don't want any psychic morgue babies tagging along the next time we interview a suspect. It's an HR issue."

Ravi chortles into his chicken. Liv glares at both of them. 

"I'm having a very specific psychic vision right now," Liv says sweetly. Clive holds his free hand up, backing up again, out of the office. "It's very satisfying."

"Have a good afternoon, Detective," Ravi says pleasantly. 

"God, y'all are gross," Clive complains, and books it. 

Liv's glare shifts back to him, the moment he's gone. Ravi smiles up at her, still pleasant. "What?"

"Don't give me 'what,'" Liv says, rolling her eyes. Reaching behind her back, she reaches beneath her shirt and rehooks her bra in a stunning display of dexterity. Ravi gulps a little, keeping his eyes fixed determinedly on her face. "That was dirty pool, Rav."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about, darling," Ravi says, taking full advantage of that trap-bath split. 

"Stop it," Liv says, flopping down into her own chair, on the other side of the desk.

"Stop what, darling?"

"That!"

"What?"

"Ugh!" Liv throws a napkin at him. It flutters sadly down on the desk, a full foot away from his face. Ravi grins at her. "I'm gonna shave your stupid beard while you sleep tonight," she threatens. 

"You _wouldn't,_ " Ravi replies. "I have a lot of friends at the police department, I'll have you know. I could have you arrested for assault."

"I've got more friends than you," Liv counters, "and just who was assaulting who against the desk just now?" Ravi narrows his eyes at her. 

"You weren't complaining about my beard last night," he says, switching tactics. Liv crosses her arms across her chest stubbornly. "Tell me, is it just pure aesthetics that gets you going? Or is it a specific fantasy, something you think about perhaps, in regards to my beard and how it would feel against your skin while I'm - "

"Shut up!" Liv cries frantically, eyes wide. "Don't finish that sentence."

"Some women don't like it," Ravi says, grinning. "Beard burn on your inner thighs is a bitch, I'm told."

Liv huffs. "I'm going to go cut up a dead body now, if you'd like to join me."

"Nah," Ravi says, taking another bite of chicken. "I'm not finished assaulting this Chinese food yet."

He can practically see the second it hits her - the impulse. Her shoulders straightening out into a hard line, Liv narrows her eyes and walks around the side of the desk, trailing her fingers along the wood as she goes. Ravi swallows his food so abruptly he almost chokes. 

"You're right. Probably best you take a moment to collect yourself," she says, and leans over him obscenely, plastering her body across his chest. Bent over the side of his chair, she reaches to snag a pen out of the pencil cup next to his monitor, ridiculously sprawled across his lap. Ravi chokes on nothing, gripping the armrests of his chair with white knuckles, staring at the bare back of her neck. He bites the inside of his cheek when she slowly pulls herself back up, making sure to rub strategically on her way. Then she smiles at him primly. "Just wanted one of the good pens. You alright, honey?"

"You are such a _brat,_ " he snaps. She laughs in his face. 

"Pot, meet kettle," she sings, turning on one heel. "Take as much time as you need!"

And for the second time in twenty-four hours, Ravi is left with a painful hard on and a door in his face. Not how he was picturing his life, post-love confession, admittedly. 

(But again - he probably deserves it.)

 

 

 

 

If Ravi had any doubts about Liv's bloodthirstiness, they're all but gone now: the gauntlet has been thrown, and the situation quickly, and painfully, devolves. 

Work has become a game of chicken. Liv pulls out all the stops with her wardrobe - tight trousers and high heels, half-unbuttoned dress blouses, garter belts, brightly colored bras that he can see plainly through her shirts. One day she even waltzes in wearing a _dress_ \- Ravi didn't even know she _owned_ a dress - and spends most of the day sitting right there on his desk, skirt bunched inappropriately high around her thighs. Ravi could've killed her right there on the spot, if she weren't already dead. 

In return, he turns his British up as high as it will go - and finds to his pleasant surprise that it's a foolproof button for her. A few carefully chosen words in her ear and she bristles like an angry cat, her eyes bleeding red at the edges, her hands starting to shake. She's clearly got a weakness for dirty talk, which Ravi takes full advantage of, tempering it with as much European properness as he can muster, and it works every single time. On the day with the dress, he waits until they're driving home to do it to her - on the highway, specifically, when she's finally relaxed, assured in her victory, scrolling innocently through her phone in the passenger seat. Ravi slows down to the minimum speed, and then proceeds to tell her in explicit detail about the sex dream he had about her the night before, until she's rigid in her seat, thighs pressed together, banging her forehead against the window. 

When he finally pulls into the parking spot of their condo, she's almost whimpering out loud. "Probably best you take a moment to collect yourself," he says magnanimously. "I'll just pop in and put some tea on."

"I hate tea and I hate you," Liv hisses, clutching the seatbelt in both fists. 

"Take as much time as you need," Ravi says smugly. That round definitely goes to him. 

Liv's counterattack is vicious - she surprises him in the shower, and makes him stand there while she washes her hair and shaves her legs like he's not even there - doesn't even look at him more than twice. Ravi has to take two full days to recover, and even then he's still thinking about it - the flex of her shoulders as she raised her arms above her head, soap running down her bare back, her pale skin flushed from the heat - when he vengefully locks them both in the supply closet at work and pretends he lost his key. 

"You're a rat and I see right through you," Liv declares, her cheeks flushed from the close proximity. His body heat, he thinks with a thrill. He can make her warm, just by being close - the concept is impossibly, bizarrely sexy. "I could break the door down right now, you know."

"Go ahead then," Ravi says, spreading out his arm. "Do your worst, Supergirl."

Liv shifts her weight back and forth, biting her lip. "I wouldn't give you the satisfaction."

"Well, that's sadly accurate," Ravi says, pushing her up against the closed door. "You haven't given me _any_ satisfaction, lately."

"Don't kiss me, don't kiss me," Liv chants, sounding a little panicked. But in the next second, she reaches out and grabs the labels of his lab coat, winding her hands firmly into the fabric. "Oh my God, Ravi, what are we doing. I feel like my skin is about to peel off."

"Hard same," Ravi says, pulling her in close. The press of her body - even just in a hug - almost undoes him. Leaning down - and he has to lean quite far, a fact which is also impossibly and bizarrely hot - he speaks directly into her ear. "Think about doing this for the rest of our lives, Liv. Because I'll never stop wanting you, darling. Never."

Liv chokes on her own breath, reaching up for a kiss. Ravi indulges her for a long, precious second before gently pulling away, disentangling her arms from around her neck. 

"Think about it," he says, and then opens the door and ducks out of the closet. He leaves the door open, whistling as he walks away, and hears her cursing to herself loudly, all the way from across the morgue. 

The bedroom is the worst. Most nights they try push each other's buttons by wearing as little as possible, but Liv - the evil genius - switches it up abruptly, skipping out of the bathroom one night in a nightgown that goes all the way down to her ankles. She shoots him that same prim smile when he raises his eyebrows at her. 

"Very Jane Austen," he comments. 

"Thanks, it's new," she says evenly, sliding guilelessly into the bed. Ravi eyes her suspiciously, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but all she does is pull out the book she's been reading and settle in. Ravi settles down next to her with a medical journal, still wary, but - secretly a little relieved. A night off is probably just the ticket. 

The genius reveals itself later - with the lights out, the room quiet, Liv slides over beneath the covers and curls up next to him, like she's done a thousand times before, her head resting affectionately against his shoulder. And Ravi realizes, with a deep, profound dread, that her nightgown is actually made of silk. 

Almost all night, he stays awake. The drape of the fabric, and the shape of her body beneath it, is more erotic than any porno he's ever dared to watch - and in the morning, she blithely rolls out of bed and pulls it right up over her head, dropping it casually on his face and sauntering off to the bathroom in just her underwear. Ravi is an entire hour late to work. 

His only solace throughout all of this is that she's as bad off as he is - and she can't talk to Peyton about it either, which might have given her a leg up as far as creativity. He'd forbidden her to, citing it as unfair, since he can't talk to Major - and she'd easily agreed. 

Two and a half weeks in, though, they both realize almost simultaneously that their mutual destruction pact doesn't at all apply to Clive. This is probably the point of no return for poor Detective Babineaux, who nobly tries to stay neutral while listening to them both rant about each other whenever they can corner him someplace relatively quiet. 

"Okay," Clive finally says, deep into a terrible, drawn out Day Three, "look, here's my final say. After this, I shall have no more opinions."

Ravi, who has been angrily detailing the nightgown incident, sits up straight at his tone. "You used your police detective voice just there, Clive."

"Well, you could both use a figure of authority right now, seems to me," Clive says. "Look, whatever you're fighting about - just apologize to her. Do whatever you have to - flowers, dinner, a weekend away. She's your wife, man. Just suck it up."

"It's not really - " Ravi falters. The edges of their secret keep getting tested, especially with Clive, who is more of a friend than a colleague nowadays. The guilt gets to him sometimes. "She's not angry with me. It's more like a mutual disagreement."

"So find a way to agree!" Clive throws up his hands. "You wanna get laid? Be a man and ask nice, Ravi. _Compromise._ "

Ravi subsides, considering this. It's a bit more complicated than that, of course, but the general concept is sound. "Your advice is noted."

"Thanks." Clive squints at him. "And no, I'm not telling you what she told me about the supply closet."

"I hadn't even asked!"

"You were going to," Clive says grimly. 

 

 

 

 

Truth be told, it's not a deal breaker. Ravi isn't so unevolved that he can't stay in a relationship without sex - for God's sake, he's been doing just that for six months now - but it's the principle of the thing. That's why she's risen to the occasion, he suspects - because she knows he's right, deep down. But Liv has a way of clinging desperately to her own insecurities, because it's still safer than the alternative: trying, and failing. He doesn't mean to discount the very real trauma of what she's been through, but he's not going to lay down and let her drift through her own unlife, either. 

And he's truly not scared, either. He wasn't lying about that - he's thought about it, of course. Letting her turn him, becoming like her. The thought is tempting in a dark way, and not _attractive,_ exactly (not even in a bad, but still sort of romantic, vampire movie way) but it doesn't scare him. He knows she doesn't believe him when he says that, but like always, Liv needs to see to believe. 

Monthly dinner with Eva interrupts their little game, and they mutually - and shrewdly - agree on a detente for the night. Ravi and Liv's mother have settled into a mutually uncomfortable politeness, but Evan's enthusiastic friendship is so welcoming that it really doesn't even matter. Ravi's own experience with nuclear family is also spotty and somewhat combative, so honestly it makes him feel rather at home. 

The true downside, however, is now that it's glaringly obvious that Liv actually isn't pregnant, that seems to be the only thing that Eva wants. 

"I met the cutest little mixed baby at Nordstrom today," Eva says. 

Ravi chokes on his wine. " _Mother,_ " Liv says. 

"What? Is that not the right term?" Eva shrugs. "He looked a bit like you, Ravi."

"Did he?" Ravi asks, strained from coughing. Liv reaches over and rubs his shoulder sympathetically. 

"I actually think that they're so beautiful," Eva continues, blithely unaware of the mortified outrage spreading across her daughter's face. "I mean, your skin tone, plus Liv's - imagine."

"Oh, I imagine it every day, Eva. I've got the modeling contracts drawn up already," Ravi says dryly. 

"Mom," Liv says flatly, "can we please talk about something else?"

"Well, you're almost _thirty,_ what else should we talk about, Olivia?" Eva asks. "Menopause?"

Liv closes her eyes, visibly trying to hold her temper. This time, it's Ravi who reaches out, squeezing her hand tightly beneath the table. 

"I'm afraid we're just not quite there yet, Eva," he says smoothly. "But you'll be the first to know when we are."

"Well." Eva sets her glass down, readjusting her napkin on her lap fastidiously. Evan is always mysteriously absent from these family dinners - with a series of progressively inventive, temporary diseases - but Ravi can practically hear his snarky commentary anyway. "You have some time, I suppose. More salad, anybody?"

Later in the kitchen, while Liv is viciously washing dishes, Ravi escapes the thorny living room and edges up behind her at the counter, wrapping his arms around her waist. She instantly relaxes, her hands going slack in the water, and her head leaning back against his chest. 

"It's a work in progress," he says quietly, kissing the top of her head. Liv laughs silently, her shoulders shaking against him. "Twenty bucks says that baby she saw looks absolutely nothing like me."

"No idiot would take that bet," Liv replies, reaching out for a towel to dry her hands. "God. Let me take the opportunity to apologize for the thousandth time for my casually racist family - "

"Well," Ravi says with a shrug, "in-laws."

"C'mere," Liv says fondly, turning in his hold. She hooks one still slightly-damp hand in his collar as she kisses him, slow and sweet, the white wine she'd been sipping for show still heavy in her mouth. Ravi feels a lazy spike of desire, but - he's exhausted with the game, he realizes suddenly. It's been weeks now, since they've shed the bullshit, and all they've done is goad each other. 

"Do you know what I've just realized," Ravi says softly, when they break apart. Her mouth is still inches away, her nose brushing against his own. "I've never once been shown any baby pictures, in this house."

"That's because my dad's in a lot of them," Liv says sadly. Ravi squeezes her a bit tighter, but she shakes her head, dismissive. "No, it's fine. I think she just would rather not be reminded every day. We can ask her."

"That's alright. I was just teasing." The air feels fragile and quiet between them, and for the first time Ravi remembers that he can say it now. "I love you."

"I love you too," Liv says, sounding almost awestruck. She kisses him again, and then pulls back with a sly smile. "Do you know - I've never shown you my room here, either?"

"I kind of thought your mother had turned it into a gym or something," Ravi says. 

"Nope," Liv says, taking his hand with a grin. "Come on."

Liv hadn't lived in this house for that long altogether, Ravi knows - Eva had moved in when Liv was already in medical school, so her room was probably just for weekends and summers, at most. Still, he can see the touches of the pre-zombie Liv all over it: cloyingly pink bedspread, a series of drunk college girl pictures taped to the mirror, old medical textbooks - the expensive ones, that you never throw away but never use again - piled in a haphazard stack in the closet. Liv takes him straight to the dresser and presents him with a fabric-covered photo album, embroidered with blue lace around the edge. She grins at him, when he raises an eyebrow in question. 

"I made this in junior high," she says, self-deprecatingly proud. "Embroidered it myself. There's a baby snap or two in there."

Ravi grins back at her, opening the cover. Sure enough, the first photo is of a tiny, round-cheeked Liv, holding baby Evan on her lap. A broad-shouldered man with dirty blonde hair is holding both children in his lap, his head tilted back in laughter. Ravi's grin softens at the sight of it - he looks so much like Evan. 

"My dad," Liv says softly. She sits down on the bed next to him, leaning over his shoulder to turn the page for him. "This one's my favorite." 

There he is again - wearing a blue t-shirt and some amazingly 80s eyeglasses, leaning against a low brick wall in front of a deep green lawn. There's a bicycle leaning against the wall next to him, brightly colored streamers tied to the handlebars. 

"That was when he and my mom were still dating," Liv says softly. "He was younger than I am now."

Ravi kisses the side of her forehead silently, leaning back and letting her turn the page again. 

"Science fair," Liv says, at the next photograph. She taps the picture. "Don't make fun of my braces."

"I would never," Ravi says, lifting the album for a closer look. "My God, you were cute."

"I really was," Liv says proudly. "Used it to my full advantage, too. Like any proud, red-blooded American sorority girl would."

Ravi shakes his head at her, flipping the pages a bit quicker now. The photos only seem to go up to high school, and he can see shades of his Liv in the images - a dry smirk here, stubbornly crossed arms there. He stops on a photograph of Liv and Peyton, dressed up for some sort of school dance, hugging each other in front of a door with flowers tied to their wrists. "Do you still have this dress? No reason - just curious."

Liv snorts. "You got some kind of schoolgirl fantasy you haven't told me about?"

"Just a halter top fantasy," Ravi replies. Liv laughs softly, leaning heavily against his side. "Or - I suppose I could be persuaded into roleplaying, if you're passionate about it. You would make a very sexy Princess Leia, I've always thought. Or I know how you get about D&D - a lightfoot halfling bard, perhaps, on the run from the law…" Liv is giggling, muffling the sound against his shirt. He leans down and kisses her again - her cheek this time. "I would be the law, of course."

"Ravi." Liv tilts her face up, the laughter still present in the lines around her eyes. "Tell me you know why I'm doing this."

"Of course I do," Ravi replies. "I just think it's stupid, that's all."

Liv shakes her head, but she's got a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. "I know you do."

"Now you tell me that you know you always have the final word. I know we've been messing about lately, but you have to know I would never push you past a line you've set - "

"Of _course,_ " Liv interrupts, bringing his hand up to her mouth and kissing his knuckles. "Of course."

"Good," Ravi says, relieved. 

"It's been...fun," Liv says, sounding surprised by the very concept. "I forgot - that sex is fun. It's been so long."

Ravi smiles at her. His whole body feels tender - like it's been squeezed and poked and prodded into submission the last three weeks, leaving him vulnerable to this moment, in this room. This conversation. "I don't know how to convince you that it's worth it," he says honestly. She squeezes his hand again, blinking slow and wide at him. "I've tried - the whole time I've known you, to show you that this doesn't have to be the end of your life. I don't know what else to do, love, other than keep offering. And if that's what you need, then fine - I'll keep doing it, over and over, until you're ready."

"Ravi," Liv says, reaching up to touch his face. Words seem to be failing her, at the moment. 

"I know it's dangerous, I know your reasons," Ravi continues patiently. "I'm a scientist. A doctor. I know your body inside and out - and not just in a sexy way." He grins at her small snort. "So my eyes are open, and I'm telling you that I want to take the risk. All that's left is for you to tell me what _you_ want - and if it's not the same, then fine - I won't love you any less. But I'm not ever going to give up on keeping you here." He tugs at her hand insistently. "Here, in the world. It's still where you belong."

"How am I so lucky," Liv says faintly, her eyes wide. The album falls from their laps as they kiss, deep and slow and lazy, like they have all the time in the world. 

Ravi doesn't remember their first kiss - a regret he'll carry for the rest of his life. To make up for it, he tries to remember all the others - every single one, even the ones that don't matter. This one will be a touch more memorable than the rest, he's certain. 

"I want," Liv says breathlessly, "a lot of things. Like, so, so many things - "

"Ice cream?" Ravi guesses, kissing her chin. She giggles. "Real marinara, nachos with guacamole, dark chocolate - "

"Stop, I can't come in these panties, they're expensive," Liv jokes weakly. Ravi's pulse jumps, and he can't help but bury his face in her neck, kissing the slim line of her collarbone. "Oh, all of that, yes...and like - _oh_ \- o-other things, things you probably already know about, but most of all, one day - I want to make love to you right here, on this bed. In my mother's house."

Ravi groans. "One day. Not _this_ day."

"Probably not," Liv says, pulling his head up and kissing him sweetly. "Seeing as how we've been gone for like twenty minutes, and she doesn't have any other guests, and - "

"Say no more." He kisses her one last time, then pushes her away - for his own sake, really. "Okay. Yes. Let's talk about that - later. In detail, preferably, but right now I need to concentrate on something a little more calming. Detective Babineaux in a bikini, perhaps?"

"What about his D&D character in a bikini?" Liv suggests. Ravi chortles, surprised she even remembers. "I mean - he's like a troll or something, right?"

"God, you're still cute," Ravi says fondly. 

 

 

 

 

The Game - as Ravi has come to think of it - settles after that. They still poke at each other frequently - Liv wears skirts to work all the time now (except when she's on a case, of course, which is when she wears those black trousers Ravi likes), Ravi teases her whenever he can, makes her laugh, turns her on just for fun. They drive in together most mornings and he likes to wind her up over coffee, or call her in the afternoons, when she's out and about with Clive, and leave her dirty voicemails that she'll end up listening to at inopportune times. She always gets back at him somehow - but it's playful now, non-committal. It's like playing cat and mouse - always on the edge, but the drop off is gentle, and the fall is endlessly fun. 

What's also fun is embarrassing her in public whenever someone tries to flirt with him, which actually does happen to him more often than anyone thinks, thank you very much. At Starbucks again - a different location this time, that last one is ruined forever for them - a woman offers to buy his drink while Liv is waiting for hers, down at the bar, and he plays dumb and then grandly introduces them until both women are mortified and probably planning his bloody death in their heads. 

"Aren't you proud of me, though?" Ravi asks, following her quickly down the street. She shoots a glare at him, over her shoulder. "What? I thought I was being very loving and supportive in there."

"Literally, I could kill you sometimes," Liv says, turning to snatch the biscotti he'd purchased right out of his hand. "You don't even deserve this."

"Oi, that's my breakfast!"

"You'll get it back when I decide you've become a normal human being, which is probably going to be never," Liv says, striding back towards the parking lot. "So better get used to being hungry all the time. I'll tell ya from experience - it's a real downer."

Well, anyway. _Ravi_ thinks it's fun. 

For their eight month anniversary, they take the night off to plan their one year anniversary, which is definitely going to involve a) the new Star Wars movie, since it comes out that same weekend ("Destiny!" Ravi crows) and b) the last bit of that fun Portuguese gymnast's brain who makes Liv both very energetic and very Portuguese. Ravi's planning some kind of parfait. Maybe a souffle, if he can figure out the egg white-to-grey matter ratio. 

"Maybe we can go away somewhere," Liv suggests, her head propped up on one hand, watching as he's half heartedly playing Super Mario. "One of those pretentious 'wine country' cabins, or something."

"Have you ever been skiing?" Ravi asks, distracted.

"No."

"Me neither," he says, his focus still on the game. "I was invited to go once, by a roommate I had when I first moved here, but he got the flu last minute and had to cancel. I've always been sort of curious, but I don't suppose I'll be any better at it than I am at skateboarding. It's the same concept, isn't it?"

Liv sounds amused, when she replies. "I think you're thinking of snowboarding."

"No, no. Definitely skateboarding. I've never been snowboarding either," Ravi says. "Anisha goes skiing every winter - her best friend from primary school owns a resort in Colorado. Can you believe that? She's got some bloody rich friend of hers in every state, practically. She said hi, by the way. She wanted you to call her about that thing neither of you are telling me about yet, which is definitely, totally not about my birthday - "

Suddenly, Liv reaches over and rips the controller out of his hands, cutting him off mid-sentence. Ravi doesn't even have time to come up with something indignant to say before she's crawling into his lap and kissing the daylights out of him. Being a man on a perpetual ledge, Ravi doesn't waste any time kissing her back. 

The world goes soft and hazy for a few minutes, and when Liv finally pulls back to catch her breath, she looks similarly dazed. Ravi blinks up at her, nonplussed.

"Is that what gets you going now?" he asks. "Skiing?"

"No," Liv says, and grins. "I just love you, is all." She leans back down and kisses him again, licking into his mouth. Ravi grunts in surprise at her forcefulness, grabbing onto her waist when she suddenly grinds down, pressing their hips together. He groans again when she does it a second time, panting against his open mouth, her hands clasped tight at his neck. 

"Liv - _Liv_ ," he mumbles, pushing her back enough to catch his breath, "what's wrong, are you on a brain?"

" _No_ I'm not on a brain, I promise I always tell you when I eat a brain," Liv says, hurried with frustration. "I'm just - God, Ravi, I thought you were the one who wanted this so bad?"

"I do! But this isn't how I - I thought you didn't," Ravi says, trailing off helplessly. He reaches up and cups her face. "We don't have to. I thought we'd come to terms with it - "

"We did," Liv says, pushing her face into his hand. "But now I wanna change the terms."

Ravi's other hand tightens around her waist. "Now? Right here?"

"Yeah. Right now, right here." Liv leans back down, pressing their foreheads together. "Right in front of God and Super Mario."

Ravi laughs a little incredulously. "You - you drive me crazy. Do you know that?"

"Yes," Liv whispers. She kisses his forehead, scratching affectionately at his beard. "I'm tired of waiting. I want the risk, too."

Ravi could explode, right then and there. Just burst into a million punch-drunk pieces, scattered into confetti by the cold touch of her hands. "Alright."

"And don't give me any crap about taking me to bed," Liv warns, kissing his cheek sloppily. When she lifts her face up again, her expression is wild, a grin stretched wide across her face. "Take me hard and fast against the tomato vestibule, Rav."

" _You_ \- " Ravi starts, cut off again by another kiss. They tumble over onto the couch roughly, already fumbling with their clothes. Liv squeaks in surprise when he pulls her shirt down - not bothering with hooks, because it's been eight months, sod the hooks - and the sound turns into a moan that hits him straight in the gut, turns his kiss into a bite. She inhales sharply at the press of his teeth, but he can tell the difference now. It's not a bad sound. 

"Oh God, I dreamed about this," Liv babbles, arching her back, pushing her breasts into his hands. "On the couch, while you were playing a game - I mean last time I dreamed it, your D&D group was watching which was super fucking weird, but - "

"Kinky," Ravi says, laughing incredulously. He kisses her cold sternum, right where her heart would normally beat, and feels the skin warm beneath his lips. Hot and cold, all over. "Still haven't come around on the halfling bard idea, have you?"

"Make me come and then ask me again," Liv demands. Ravi grins into her skin. "Well, come on. Eight months, _darling._ "

"Liv, I love you," Ravi says, laughing out loud, "but do me a favor and shut up." 

As it turns out, Ravi's beard isn't scratchy enough for true thigh beard burn, not that Liv is complaining. It also turns out that Liv is pushy as hell when she's being eaten out - fisting her hands in his hair, tugging him back and forth as she pleases. Ravi's not complaining either. 

She sort of shudders as she comes, and her skin is endlessly fascinating - patches of warmth here and there, from his hands and his mouth, but otherwise as cold as ever - smooth and pale and tinged with blue. Her eyes go red, like they do when she's really turned on, but the veins come out, just a little. Ravi kisses her knees, and her thighs, and her bellybutton, and tries not to think about the implications of how hot that is - at least not too closely. 

"Up here," Liv says, on the edge of incoherence, her hair spread out in a wave against the couch cushion. "Up, up here. With me."

"I was going to ask you a question," Ravi says, crawling up her body. Her hands are still pushy, tugging at his belt, pulling his fly open, urgent but not frantic. "But I can't remember what it is."

"Later," Liv says, lifting one of her legs and hooking it around his waist. Ravi's breath stutters, all the sensations thrown into crystal sharp clarity: her bruised mouth, the coiled strength in her legs, wrapped around him. The first press inside of her is like jumping into a cold pool, it makes every inch of him shiver - a deep shiver, down to his bones. Liv mumbles something he doesn't catch, her voice going up high at the end, and pulls his face close for a kiss. Her thighs are trembling. 

They lie there for a moment, pressed as closely together as two people can get, breathing in tandem. He can feel her warming up, inside and out, and carefully - mindful of her hair, and the wrist laying limply above her head - he raises up on his hands, and thrusts once - pulling almost all the way out, then plunging back in. Her mouth falls open silently, and she shudders, head falling back. 

"Liv," he says roughly. Her eyes fly open. "Stay with me."

"Okay," she says, crying out again as he changes the angle slightly. Experimenting, he does it again, and she almost lights up, like she's been electrocuted. "Oh God yeah, that's it. Right there."

"I was wondering about certain things," Ravi says breathlessly, switching his weight to one hand, so he can grip her knee in the other for leverage. "What happens to sexual organs after zombification, for instance, how one's proclivities might change after death based purely on physiological changes - "

"Oh God, why is this hot," Liv babbles, turning her forehead to lean it against his hand, still braced against the couch beside her head. "Why, _why_ can you always make me hot with the weirdest fucking things - "

"I suppose it's in your nature now," Ravi teases, pressing in deeply, pinning her hips to the couch with his own. She whimpers a little, squeezing her thighs tightly around his waist. "A zombie and a mortician."

"You're sick and twisted," Liv accuses, snaking one arm up between them and sliding her fingers through his hair. Her kiss is fierce, and Ravi thrusts shallowly without thinking, a few times, until the goosebumps rise up again. "Love you," she whispers. 

"Yes," Ravi replies, mindlessly. He's still half dressed, his shirt's still on, her shirt bunched up around her stomach. He won't forget this. He'd die first. 

For all that build up, all that frantic energy, it seems to go on forever - Ravi chases the edge of the cliff lazily, content to just keep doing this forever - finding different angles, different speeds, keeping a log in his head of how fast, how hard, how soft, how gentle. He thinks he makes her come again, but he's not quite sure - she seizes up against him, sort of, when he presses in against that spot she likes and holds her there, pinning her wrist to the cushion. It's like her whole body goes rigid, locked up tight around him, keeping him in place, before she relaxes again, a moan erupting from her throat like a sob. 

"Jesus, darling," Ravi slurs, "are you - "

"Yes, yes," Liv says breathlessly, flopping limply back against the couch again. One of her legs falls lazily to the ground, but the other one stays pressed tightly against his chest, her knee just below his chin. "Yes, please, keep going. Come on, honey."

Ravi's always been good at sex, has always enjoyed it, but it's never been like this - it's like he's in a fever, which might have something to do with how stupidly dressed he still is, but - he's more sure it's just Liv, who sometimes he still thinks he dreamt up one night, conjured her up out of lonely fantasies and desperate yearning for something that could just be his, belong to him in a way that nothing ever has before. And yet, here she is, as real as anyone he's ever met, her skin clammy with sweat, holding his face in her grey-white hands. Not just his best friend, but his _wife_ , prickly and obstinate and too noble for her own good, winding him up and poking him until he bruises. But he never minds - he's never scared. His eyes are open. 

Liv holds him for a long time afterwards, her ankles hooked around the backs of his thighs, running her hands over and over through his hair. He feels like he's run a marathon - like he's just crawled through a desert on his knees. A jacuzzi in the mountains - or a cool kiss, on a warm, muggy night. 

"Am I a zombie yet?" he finally mumbles, kissing her neck. She slaps his shoulder. 

"Don't make fun," she says, but she sounds like she's laughing. "No, don't leave yet - stay inside me."

"Alright." Ravi settles back down and kisses her again, rubbing the angles of her cheekbone with his thumb. "You're beautiful and perfect and ridiculous. I love you."

"I love you," Liv replies, tears in her eyes. "Thanks for pushing me."

Ravi grins. "It's my specialty."

"It really is," Liv says, voice strained with tears. She presses her forehead against his shoulder, which is still covered by his shirt. Damp with sweat now, and God - his _trousers_ \- if she were a human woman his dangling belt buckle would've done more damage than the beard could ever hope to. "You're burning up."

"I'm bloody hot," Ravi says, a bit more coherent now. "This is very romantic and sweet and everything, but I'd really like to take my clothes off now, Liv."

She laughs, and her legs fall instantly away from his waist. Ravi pulls out of her - reluctantly, but still - and takes his shirt off immediately. The cool air of the room feels like bliss. 

"I can't believe we just did it in front of Mario and Luigi," Liv teases, sitting up gingerly. She touches her hair, grimacing. "Oh, man. Sex hair."

"Looks very fetching on you," Ravi says, running his knuckles down her cheek. "And it was your idea, I'll remind you."

"Now can we go to bed," Liv whines, like she hadn't been the one demanding they stay on the couch in the first place. "Oh - water for you first, though. Probably." Ravi just rolls his eyes at her.

"Come on then," he says, climbing to his feet. Liv lifts up on her knees and he swings her up into his arms, which isn't particularly hard considering she weighs pretty much _nothing_ \- turns out you don't build up a lot of body fat or muscle, being an undead person. She laughs, sliding her arms around his shoulders. "Never did this properly, did I? That first night."

"That's alright," Liv says with a shrug. "You really were spectacularly drunk."

"Worst hangover I ever had," Ravi says mournfully, kicking the door to their bedroom open with one foot. Liv splutters in surprise when he drops her unceremoniously on the bed, laughter spilling out as she flops back on the mattress. "Never had a proper honeymoon, either," he says, sliding in next to her. She rolls into him instantly, like she always does - he could swear that she's got a favorite spot on his chest by now. 

"That's why I was saying, we should go somewhere," Liv mumbles. "Could we bring brains with us on an airplane?"

"Hm," Ravi says, thinking about it. "I suppose we could disguise it, though that would be fairly dangerous, if we got caught. But if we went in an official capacity - transporting a cadaver somewhere, for instance - "

"There's that conference in Miami coming up," Liv says. 

"A working idea," Ravi says, kissing her forehead. "We'll talk about it."

"Definitely," Liv says. 

 

 

 

 

Three weeks later, Ravi is at Starbucks again. This time, he's alone, picking up coffee for Councilman Winters, who is dropping in later for his monthly "check up on the potential HR disaster at the city morgue" meeting. In line, distracted by his phone, he doesn't even notice until she taps him on the shoulder - Detective Rachel Norris, from Major Crimes. He'd consulted for her on a case about two years ago - a series of armed robberies which had resulted in two deaths. They had a few dinner dates, here and there, but work picked up for them both, and it fizzled out. He hasn't seen her in ages. 

"I took some leave," Rachel explains, smiling up at him as they shake hands, warm and friendly. "My father passed away. I wanted to spend some time with my mom at home."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Ravi says, dismayed. "I had no idea, Rachel."

She shrugs. There's a heaviness to her expression, but she's still smiling. And her hand is warm in his grip. "We knew it was coming. He had cancer." Ravi turns their handshake into something more intimate - squeezing her hand. "Thanks, though. But anyway - how are you? I heard you were promoted to head M.E. - congratulations!"

"Thanks, thank you," Ravi says, nodding. "I'm very well. Life is weird and wonderful and quite interesting, actually, and I'm quite enjoying it at the moment."

Rachel laughs. "That's an endorsement, if I've ever heard one."

"Quite." They move forward in the line together, shoulder to shoulder. "I've been working quite a bit with Babineaux, in Homicide. It's fascinating, getting involved with your side of things. I know you tried to tell me, but of course I didn't listen."

"You were too busy with your science experiments," Rachel teases. "But that's good - I'd heard that, around the grapevine. Seems you've got yourself a little reputation."

"Me?" Ravi feigns shock. "Never."

Rachel shakes her head. "Heard some other things too," she says slyly. "That assistant M.E. of yours, making all the desk jockeys nervous…"

"Ah, my lovely wife," Ravi says proudly, "excellent at many things, but most of all - intimidating people. It's one of her most charming qualities."

"I'd like to meet her," Rachel says warmly. "Anyone who can pin you down to a wedding ring has got to be something special."

"Her name is Liv," Ravi says. "And it was nothing. She just got me drunk."

Rachel seems unsure for a split second how to take that, but at his grin, she relaxes into a laugh. "Well, that's typical."

"Not at all, actually," Ravi says with a grin. "But I think that's why it works."


End file.
